The Warmth of the Sun
by sherlollyshipperalltheway
Summary: Sherlock finally admits his feelings about Molly, but when he goes to tell her there is another man in her flat! Has she moved on? Sherlolly.
1. Ended Before It's Begun

_This fic is based upon the song "When I Fall in Love" sung by King Cole (written by Victor Young). I do not own Sherlock or the song. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!_

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"I can't do it John, I can't fall in love with her," cried Sherlock as he collapsed on his sofa. John rolled his eyes and dragged his chair closer to the sofa. Then he sat down and assumed the stereotypical therapist pose: leaning back in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, and one hand lightly resting on his chin.

"And how does that make you feel?" asked Therapist-John. He got exactly the response he was expecting: Sherlock reached over to kick him in the shin, but he dodged the flailing leg just in time. "Okay, okay," John tried again, a little more seriously, "why is this coming up right now? Do you want to fall in love with her?"

Sherlock rolled over and looked John in the eyes. "I didn't used to want to," he said, his eyes filled with truth, "but now, I just...Her skin is so soft."

"Sherlock, it sounds like you are in love with her already..." John said softly.

Sherlock sat up straight and said, "That's the thing, I have all the feelings you're supposed to have but I can't let myself feel them." His eyes clouded over as if he was seeing a memory. John waited patiently. When Sherlock finally emerged from his mind palace, he took a deep breath and began to speak again. "I fell in love once. It was a whirlwind. Her name was Allison. We thought we were so perfect for each other. Then one morning I woke up and I was bored. It was like whatever we had had faded as the sun went down. So I called it off. It broke my heart to break hers. I haven't let myself fall like that since then. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I broke Molly's heart like that."

John's jaw was practically on the floor and he gave no response.

"John," Sherlock snapped his fingers, "having a crisis here."

"Sorry." John's eyes came back into focus and he said, "Wow. Okay, so you love Molly, but you don't want to hurt her?" Sherlock nodded. "Don't you think you've hurt her enough already by pretending you don't care about her at all? And anyway, you've been Molly's friend for seven or eight years and you haven't gotten bored yet. Isn't that enough?"

"You're right." Sherlock said quickly and started to get up.

"Could I have that in writing?" John asked jokingly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and put on his coat. In his best sarcastic tone he thanked John and then rushed out the front door of 221 B. Once he got into the cab, he realized he had no idea how to tell Molly he loved her and that he should have asked John what to say before he left so abruptly. He swore quietly to himself, but then he started to think about all the things he loved about Molly. He loved her hair. He loved it up and he loved it down. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He loved how hard Molly worked and how good she was at her job. He realized that all he really had to do was say what he really felt. He smirked as he heard John's voice in his head say "Well that won't be hard, you are pretty honest to people all the bloody time."

As the cab pulled up to Molly's flat, he shoved away the jokes and the sarcasm and took a deep breath. He climbed the stairs slowly and knocked on her door. There was a bit of a commotion inside, but soon Molly opened the door, slightly out of breath.

"Oh, hello Sherlock." A breath. "What are you doing here?" Her cheeks were red as she tried to pretend she wasn't wearing a see-through dressing gown with only a few garments vaguely resembling clothing underneath.

"Um I uh, well, I just wanted to, I wanted to thank you for all your hard work this week. You've been a lot of help," said Sherlock attempting to cover and explain himself while simultaneously trying not look down at Molly's half-naked body.

"Molly, come back to bed," called a man's voice from down the hall. She went even redder and she giggled.

"Um, I've got to go, but...thank you for stopping by and I'm happy to help out with your cases." Molly smiled and when Sherlock didn't respond she said, "Goodbye Sherlock," and closed the door.

The detective couldn't move. How could he not have known she was over him? He had always counted on her loving him. It had never occurred to Sherlock that she might move on to some other man. Well, there had been Tom, but he was hardly a man. But this, this wasn't supposed to happen. He supposed another thing he hadn't experienced when he had avoided falling in love was rejection.

Finally, after what felt like hours, he moved from Molly's welcome mat and began to walk home. Sherlock was halfway home when he stopped feeling sad and started feeling what most people would call jealous. Instead he referred to it as 'suspicious'. Who was this man? Was there anything wrong with him? Of course there was. There was something wrong with everyone if you dig deep enough.

Sherlock pulled out his phone and tapped on a name. When the person picked up, the detective said with a grimace, "I need your help."


	2. Restless

**I own nothing!**

When John answered the phone Sherlock could practically hear the smirk on his best friend's face. "Okay, okay, get it all out now because I have an actual problem to deal with."

"That's fine," John said stifling a snort, "my mocking can wait. What's the problem?"

"There's a man in her bed."

"In whose bed?"

"In Molly's bed!" yelled Sherlock with extreme exasperation.

John paused, processing the news. "How do you know that?"

Sherlock groaned and said, "I heard him!"

"Did it seem like a serious thing?"

"Well she was naked, John! Practically naked! It seemed pretty serious to me!"

John took this in and laughed. "Sherlock, you don't know anything about these kinds of relationships, do you? Just because they were having sex does not mean it is serious. You haven't seen her with this man outside of her home, she has never mentioned him. It might just be a one off."

Sherlock responded with stunned silence. Finally he asked, "So she might still want to be with me?"

This time John didn't laugh at the scared and fragile tone of Sherlock's voice (no matter how much he wanted to). Instead he said, "She might. Especially if you act fast." Sherlock stopped abruptly and started walking back towards Molly's flat. As if reading his mind, John quickly informed Sherlock that now, mid-coitus would not be a great time to interrupt Molly and propose a relationship. "Wait until tomorrow when you see her in the lab," John suggested, "I know what you can say to her." Sherlock agreed, only because if he went back to Molly's flat there was a significant chance that he might punch Molly's 'bedroom friend'.

John then proceeded to explain his plan and Sherlock and to the consulting detective's dismay, it was again, a good idea.

…

The next morning, Sherlock and John were supposed to be at Bart's at ten AM.. So naturally, Sherlock appeared at John and Mary's front door at eight-thirty in the morning. It was a bleary eyed Mary that answered the door, her arms full with the couple's three-month-old daughter, Violet.

"What the…?" she started to ask but quickly gave up. "Oh what the hell, come on in." She motioned with her head for him to enter but continued to block the doorway until he opened his arms to take Violet from her. "Please? Just for a few minutes? I hardly got any sleep last night. Can you just sit with her for ten minutes? Half an hour tops."

"Oh just go already," groaned Sherlock as he took the baby gently into his arms and took a seat in the armchair. The half hour passed quickly because now matter how much he would deny it to John, he was smitten with little Violet. He smiled because it was just like Mary to take advantage of his love for her daughter just to get a little more sleep along with her tired husband.

When the allotted time was up, Sherlock tiptoed into the bedroom and gently placed the sleeping baby onto her cot. He then hissed in John's general direction until the blogger woke from his deep slumber. John looked at the clock and rolled his eyes, probably because Sherlock was still an hour early, but he whispered a word of thanks for the extra sleep.

Sherlock paced around the sitting room while John got ready going over the plan of what he was going to say, repeatedly. He continuedly reassured himself that Molly might still take him and that man was probably only around for that one night.

He could have gone on like this for hours had John not finally emerged from his and Mary's room and motioned toward the door. The pair were silent during the cab ride to Bart's, but after they got out of the car, John clapped Sherlock on the back and reassured him. "You can do this, mate. Just don't be an arse."

Sherlock glared down at John. "Very helpful. Thank you."

"You know me. I'm here for you," replied John jokingly as he led the way into the hospital.


	3. It Will Be Forever

**I own nothing!**

Sherlock followed John into the hospital and down the stairs to the morgue. When they reached the entrance, John stepped back and motioned for Sherlock to go first. The consulting detective rolled his eyes, but pushed open the double doors with too much force, startling Molly who was reading over some paperwork.

She jumped a bit and let out a little squeal. "Oh, hello Sherlock," she squeaked, blushing as she remembered her half-naked state the last time they spoke.

John coughed and Sherlock turned around to glare at him. The doctor turned around to hide his smile, took a seat on a stool near the door and took out his phone so as not to look like he was eavesdropping.

Sherlock turned back to the subject of his distress and said, "Molly."

"Yes, which body would you like to look at first? Mr. James or Mrs. Dresser?" she asked.

"Well, neither at the moment. I was actually hoping to ask you a question."

Molly frowned a bit in confusion. "Alright, go ahead."

"I was wondering what you were doing this evening?" asked Sherlock, taking a step back and bumping into the morgue table. Suddenly this plan seemed like a terrible idea.

Molly shuffled a bit, unsure where this was going, but she answered him all the same. "Um, I was going to go out and get a new pair of shoes for work. These ones are getting quite roughed up," she said pointing to her scuffed black ballet flats.

"Are you going alone?"

Molly looked even more uncomfortable now as she said, "Well, yes, but I do like shopping alone. It doesn't take as long and I don't have to…" She trailed off because Sherlock was staring at her with such a look of relief. "What?"

"So you don't have a date with 'what's his face' from your flat?" asked Sherlock, practically floating off the ground.

Molly giggled and blushed deeper. "Oh, Brad? No, he was only around for the weekend. He is from Dublin and we met in a pub. He was visiting his sister but she and her husband were being too loud, y'know, in the bedroom. So he came and stayed over at my flat and well, yeah. You know the rest. But, no we aren't dating if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, good. So um, then I was wondering if you are still in love with me?"

John practically fell off his stool at this point and almost choked on his own tongue trying not to laugh.

Molly crossed her arms and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes. "Excuse me? Sherlock, everyone knows I fancy you quite a bit, but isn't it pretty presumptuous to assume that I am in love with you? Or that I ever was?"

John's coughing changed ever so slightly and the sounds resembled the words 'not good'.

"Oh, I suppose you're right, Molly. Sorry. What I meant to ask was if you would go on a date with me this evening? I can go with you to get your shoes first if you'd like."

Molly's smile returned as she accepted the invitation and took Sherlock's hand in hers. "Look, I know that you like to deduce all of the things that happen inside my head, but I would really appreciate if you would let me speak for myself."

Sherlock nodded vigorously. "Of course. That was completely out of line. Would it help if I told you I was in love with you?"

(More coughing from John.)

Molly laughed again. "Probably not. But I promise I will let you know when it would be a good time to say that."

…

One month later, Sherlock took Molly out for a romantic dinner to celebrate one month of dating. After their meal, the detective was feeding his pathologist chocolate cake from across the table. Molly wiped her mouth and put her napkin on her the table. "Now would be a good time."

Sherlock didn't need any explanation. He knew exactly what she meant. He took her hand and looked at Molly with his eyes full of emotion and said, "I love you, Molly. I am completely in love with you. I never knew I could feel this way, but you make me feel like there is no better feeling in the world." He stopped and paused, waiting for her approval.

Molly smiled widely. "Perfect," she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. "I love you too, Sherlock."

Sherlock wanted to tell her that he knew that the love they had was forever and he would never fall in love again, but he figured she would think one month into dating was too soon for a proposal. Maybe at the two month mark? He decided he would ask John.


End file.
